


The slip

by dragoonsbeard



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hurt Vinsmoke Sanji, Injured Vinsmoke Sanji, Panic, Stabbing, Vinsmoke Sanji-centric, get some proper shoes sanji for godness sake, one big stab that goes al the way through, stabs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragoonsbeard/pseuds/dragoonsbeard
Summary: Sanji fucks up during battle and gets shish-kababed.
Relationships: Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates & Vinsmoke Sanji, Roronoa Zoro & Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 6
Kudos: 124





	The slip

If it were not for the ocean spray that clung upon wood and nail, that took on a slick so dangerous it could kill. Or for the oily film of hot blood upon its boards. Maybe. Just maybe, Sanji would not have slipped. Such a foolishly simple thing, he had slipped many times before this. In different times, places. But it had to be in this instance that it proved fatal.

 _Pirates,_ not the kind driven by adventure or dreams- were the ones to blame. They had ploughed their haggard sail ship through waves and water, blinded by a false grander- of greed, _believed_ they were a match of the straw hat pirates. Obviously they were quite wrong. _However_ , perhaps this time they got lucky.

_Sanji slipped._

Instinctively he had continued the decent, to flow with this unforeseen rhythm so that he may escape his opponents sword, and yet as the cooks unbalanced foot threw his momentum- the swordsman he versed had been flung forward, by a knock from behind. Forceful enough for the sharp blade to have slipped cleanly through a slot in Sanji’s ribs.

Sanji’s own sharp inhale, marred by shock and absolute dread was not a sound he would ever forget, nor hope to make again. Blue eyes wide and dazed, Sanji could only watch as a glint of stained iron had begun to glide its way from his flesh.

It was in that moment he knew, that if this blade were to exit his body, Sanji would bleed out in seconds. His hands did _not_ scramble for the blade, he had enough wits for that. _Strange_ how the priority of his hands had devoured that of his life, yet this was the fact that had saved him. Sanji Blackleg launched himself up the length of the sword and hoped to god it wasn’t double bladed. Its welder much too shaken by the sudden veer of events, easily relinquished his grip upon its hilt as the cook took it from him.

Maybe Sanji’s opponent believed that he would die for such a wound. The man did not attack again, nor did any other. What cries of battle, shouts and crashed waves the cook had heard were quickly muted far beyond the reaches of pain, and the distorted thought that he might die.

With a short stumble followed by a Flag of blond hair, Sanji had immediately stilled. For an abrupt twang of agony so _bright_ had ricocheted down the length of his spine. His face now more impassive than marble, had drained into chalky white. Sanji did not know how long he had remained in that position, delicate upon the treacherous possibilities of this moment.

You see, to know whether a wound is bad, is not for the blood or the cry of its victim. But for the silence.

The dead calm of its casualty, the void of blank eyes that _kn_ _e_ _w_ , the ashy face and achingly slow moments. For every ounce of conscience is stolen away from the idea to call help, but instead conserve yourself, _to_ _survive._

Sanji was no stranger to surviving.

Soon, his knees begun to grow precariously weak, and Sanji had no choice but _move._ So quiet, he could barely make a sound, to afraid the smallest of motion would damage something that couldn’t ever be fixed. He had never been so thankful for his uncanny talent at balance and control, he used these skills to their extent to lower himself into a kneel. _Steady_ , he had to be steady.

The blade sliced a little more.

Images of all the worst scenarios flickered behind blurred eyes. The displacement of his organs, if someone were to bump his prone position, would his stomach splay open bared to the salt and sea. Like a gutted fish. Would they trip over the edge that jutted from his back, force it further to his spinal column. Sanji knew what could happen, he has done it many time to creatures fated to his kitchen. Just a little bit of pressure, just a little bit _too much_. And Sanji was gone. No one had yet disrupted him, maybe they thought him dead. Too focused in the fight of his nakama.

 _His nakama._ Someone find him. Please.

Sanji risked a feeble turn of his head, the crowd of fighters had thinned out considerably to instead continue their battle on the far end of the ship. It should end soon, someone should find him soon. He waited like this with his knees that dug into splintered wood, a pool of red that stained the cornflour blue of his shirt.

Eventually a voice rung over the desolate ship deck “Oi Cook were are you?” it was Zoro, his thick soled boots seemed to echo.

“hey co-” Zoro choked a sudden and frightful sound, his katana fell to wooden slats, forgotten. Just as quick as he had- Zoro _launched_ towards him.

Overwhelmed with a terror so strong, Sanji had begun to wheeze desperately at the sight “nono stop sto-” like chords of of wire his nerves quickly became loaded with a shocking pain and Sanji _froze_ , This time his voice a mere whisper “my- spine. stop, I’ll-”

Immediately Zoro had slid to a complete halt, his expression something dreadful. “fuck.... fuck!” he stressed as calloused hands sought to yank at his green locks in distress. “CHOPPER”

the swordsman’s frantic shouts broke off with the feeble warble of sanji’s voice as it called his attention.

“-Dont” Zoro had swiftly cut sanji off and fell to his knees beside him, dark eyes roamed the entrance and exit wounds fervently “Don’t talk”

Nor did Sanji want to, each breath he took rattled, it shook out the fear from his heart until it coated every cell in his body, he had sat here for too long, alone against the sway of a ship and a blade thrust fast against his spine. Sanji was not sure if he could last.

“s-sorry” sanji croaked, throat dry regardless of the sticky copper that lined it “I slipped”

For a last word, it was certainly the strangest yet most dreaded of them all, for Sanji these words were bitter, that such a stupid thing could end him. For zoro- _horror._

Something _wretched_ twisted in the swordsman's chest, thrashed and howled, for this would be a second time Zoro would face loss at the hands of a fate so simple. _Sanji slipped._ Just as Kuina had slipped so many years before. Dull sapphire eyes steadily blurred into vacant grey. Sanji’s consciousness begun to slip away, all noise and thought lost in a whirl faded intent. Perhaps in the far distance, numbed by his fading life remained a slight pressure.

Of hot hands that clasped fast upon his arms-

 _cradled_ his face.

_maybe this was it._

The next instant in which Sanji awoke, was to a thought that he needed better shoes. Which made itself known with a dreary slur and obtuse curse as the cook blinked warily at a tangle of wires and drips. After mere moment of silence, the infirmary had burst into an uproar of familiar voices.

_Maybe this wasn’t it after all_

**Author's Note:**

> I had great plans for Zoro completely dissociating and everyone freaking out even more for it. buuuut I cant be fucked. take what you're given. *drops mike*


End file.
